The Emeralds of Avalon
by WingedWolf121
Summary: Arthur, with Gwaine, Lancelot and Merlin, sets out on quest to find the Emeralds of Avalon which might heal Uther's fragmented mind. He is unheeding of Merlin's warnings, and the menace that guards the gems may yet kill them all. M/A, mentions L/G
1. Chapter 1

**Title: The Emeralds of Avalon**

**Summary: Arthur, accompanied by Gwaine, Lancelot, and Merlin, sets out on quest to the tower Khazad, to find the Emeralds of Avalon which might heal Uther's fragmented mind. He is unheeding of Merlin's warnings, and the menace that lurks in the tower may yet kill them all. Merlin/Arthur, mentions of Lancelot/Gwen**

**Disclaimer: O.o might a mere fan be writing fan fiction? Whodathunkit? **

**A/N: This isn't really my usual style, but it was fun to write. Thanks to Sofiajedi, for proofreading, and to a friend who ffnet profile I still can't find for letting me be antisocial and spend hours in my room writing. **

The people of Camelot crowded in the streets. Children laughed and clapped their hands, while their parents looked on with a mixture of awe and thrill. A merchant had come to Camelot.

This was not an ordinary merchant. His clothing was of silk, and he wore gold rings on all his fingers. Few were so prosperous. He was short of stature and had a healthy layer of fat on his bones, more marks of living well. He had russet hair, thinned a bit on top, and a ready smile.

His hands-smooth hands, for amongst his stores were soaps and sweet smelling oils-held reins. He was driving the first of his train of wagons himself, and the two richly bedecked white stallions that hauled it endured the crowds with good grace.

The wagon train was five wagons. A pair of stallions trotted before each-the first brilliant white, the next a shining black, the third rich red, the fourth a soft grey, and the fifth paints that he had gone to great pains to find. Each after his was driven by another man, all stronger and broader shouldered. The crowd did not notice that each kept many daggers beneath their silken dress, nor that their eyes roved the crowd for thieves. The horses even were trained, to fight to the death if bandits seized them.

The crowd, thankfully, was unaware. They only saw glittering wagons piled high with wares. From some beautiful women peeped out, and smiled slyly when they caught certain eyes.

This merchant sold, after all, a great variety of things. At present three kings held his girls as mistresses, and one was even under the impression she had been a virgin before he acquired her. The merchant had not reached his present prosperity by being entirely honest.

One girl in the train had even assassinated a monarch. Many things indeed did the merchant sell, and not all to scrupulous folk.

All the same, goodwill shone from his plump features. He took a few baubles from the bag at his feet and tossed them into the crowd. Gold bells, pretty bits of ribbon, and silk handkerchiefs fluttered into the peasantry.

Ahead of the merchant, the official protection wished he would not. Two knights in shining armor and scarlet capes embossed with the Pendragon trotted in front of the procession. Sir Leon, who was in charge of the front guard, eyed the crowds. No sign of a riot, not yet. Sir Percival, also with him, smiled into the crowds and waved. Several children waved back, attention temporarily diverted.

The rear guard sifted through the mob of lower class following the merchant. Still, it was hard to keep from smiling. The people had so little to be cheerful for. Sir Elyan waved to his sister, who had her hands over her mouth to contain laughter as a child tugged her dress and pointed. Sir Lancelot smiled at her as well, and turned her cheeks rosy as the young child's.

They wound up to the citadel. The merchant periodically tossed the less valuable of his wares into the crowds, and smiled amicably. Keeping the common folk happy meant they rejoiced when you returned. Happy people had far looser pockets than mistrustful ones.

But the people weren't the biggest concern. They would buy his cheaper wares, goggle over them for days and then tell stories until he returned. The greatest prize waited just up the hill.

Royalty. Deep pockets and a comfortable room waited for him in the castle of Camelot, and the merchant was going to take advantage of both. He could see the royalty watching now from the walls.

Not King Uther, that golden head was Prince Arthur. An unmarried prince, confronted with a harem ready to please for a price. Maybe he might even be induced to take one on as a mistress.

With him was some dark haired fellow. The assessment at a glance the merchant perfected in his youth said that this one was poor but in a favorable position. The merchant waved up at them. The dark haired one waved back and elbowed the Prince.

Prince Arthur waved, with more reluctance. The merchant reassessed the other.

Influential.

He might be induced to buy things then place them on the Prince's bill. Excellent. The more they bought, the merrier he and his would be.

* * *

><p>The merchant was greeted by Prince Arthur, not King Uther. Uther it seemed, was indisposed. He dined with the prince instead, and was given much honor. The dark haired man, who was unnamed as yet, drifted in the background, filling drinks and taking away plates.<p>

Prince Arthur was not fully captivated the tales of the Merchant, but they held allure. He spoke of hulking sea dogs that lived in the north, and how he had gone on their ships and seen their fair haired women. He spoke of Oriental cities where wine flowed from fountains and fiery spirited steeds of the distant country Arabia.

The sun dipped down as they spoke. Time was nothing to Arthur, as he listened to the merchant speak of spicy herbs and green elixirs, as they strayed into folklore and myth. The dark haired one listened just as keenly, but his look was more skeptic by far. This one had met myths and fought demons, and his hands crafted what would one day be greater legend than this far traveling merchant ever saw.

So they spoke of jewels and blessings and curses. The merchant waved his hands as he told of the jewels he sold.

"Healing jewels?" Prince Arthur propped his chin on his hands and leaned forward. His green eyes were bright indeed. "What are these?"

"The Emeralds of Avalon, whose counterpart I hold in my wares." The merchant seemed, to the dark man, to be overeager. "They are emeralds of the purest green you'll see on the earth, and they glow with an inner light. These are set in a necklace of weeping gold and edged with pale blue sapphires. Their value is immeasurable. I myself sold this necklace to a court Queen, and she treasured them for they kept her in youth and beauty."

"Are they magical in nature?" The merchant thought it best to stray from truth here. He dared not act as if anything in his wares were connected to sorcery, else he would surely die.

"No your highness. They are blessed by the wise men in the farthest east and contain only that goodness blessed by nature." Prince Arthur's eyes were distant. It seemed that he was enraptured by these jewels, as so many before him were. "These are the gems to heal a mind."

"You are sure of this?" A hungry light shone in the prince's eyes. "They could make even the most broken of men whole?"

"Undoubtedly. I hold the bracelet to match them, and I am fifty years old." Prince Arthur's eyes were startled. The merchant smiled. Craftiness lurked in his eyes.

"But the necklace is the true power." The merchant bobbed his head. "Does it work in tandem to the bracelet?"

"Oh yes your majesty. Together, they would heal a body and keep it strong for years, even one already weakened by betrayal and madness." The merchant sighed. "Alas that the emeralds were sold."

"To whom?" The dark man moved closer to his Prince's shoulder.

"The court of Khazad, who live far to the southeast." The merchant paused. "I have the bracelet to sell to you, should you desire it."

"Arthur." Now the dark man brushed his hand over the Prince's jacket. "It's getting late."

"True. We should retire. Master Merchant, we will speak of this again." The Merchant, even sitting as he was, managed a deep bow.

"Certainly, your majesty."

* * *

><p>Merlin was not at peace that night. He was warm and comfortable, lying on a mattress stuffed with swan feathers and beneath blankets of fine wool. Most peasants used to sleeping on the ground wouldn't fall asleep easily in a royal bed. Merlin hadn't ever had difficulty.<p>

Until tonight. Arthur wasn't asleep either-Merlin, curled up to his chest, could tell. Arthur was deep in thought. Merlin knew better than to ask him. Sometimes Arthur was receptive to sleeping like this, with an arm around Merlin and his lover's head nestled on his shoulder.

More often, Arthur seemed to remember who they were and shift to the other side of the bed, then fall asleep not facing Merlin. For sure Arthur sought Merlin when he was asleep, but he ignored the fact that they were tangled together in the mornings.

"What did you think of the merchant?" Arthur asked abruptly. It wasn't hard to guess what he had been reflecting on.

"He wanted you to buy his goods. Like all merchants." Arthur made an amused sound in his throat.

"That's an astute observation Merlin. Any more pearls of wisdom?" Here, the words lacked the bite delivered when Arthur was fully awake.

"I don't trust him." Those who share the bed of sovereigns often hear secrets. Merlin was party to many murmured opinions from his prince that could not be spoken of with advisors, and held them tight. It was he who delivered news that could not reach the prince's ears through normal channels and he whose advice was sought in the most delicate crises.

This was no crisis, nothing more than the one they had dealt with for months. Uther's shattered mind was no longer at the forefront of Merlin's thoughts, but it strayed upon those of Prince Arthur often. For how long they might keep of the charade of a healthy monarchy was a question he nor his lover could answer.

"Those jewels he spoke of…what do you think of them?" Merlin frowned.

"He didn't look like he was lying."

"He wasn't. I'm sure." Arthur was excellent at detecting the common lies told to princes. His ability to detect his lover's half truths and covered up deeds was less, and in that respect Arthur was like many men. "They could heal my father."

"Not necessarily." Merlin wished he did not have to say these things. "They might just be some really pretty jewelry."

"I don't think so. I want you to look in the library tomorrow for legends of these gems. If we could go to the court of Khazad and borrow them…" Merlin snorted.

"Like you borrowed that oil from Gwaine?" Arthur bumped his hip against Merlin's.

"You didn't object." Merlin made a humming sound of agreement. "Besides, we could trade for them. Bring their country military support or trade for other precious gems."

Merlin did not point out that Camelot was at that moment none too wealthy herself, and could ill afford to spare more troops. Their losses fighting the immortal army had weakened them, and Uther's breakdown had not helped matters. He doubted that any of the troops would take being sent to foreign lands well, let alone going to the sake of a necklace.

"Maybe. But that merchant had a sly look I don't trust." Arthur laughed slightly.

"All merchants do." Merlin rolled his eyes.

"I know that. I just don't like him." That should have given the prince pause. Merlin was one of those people who liked everyone, and whom everyone adored in return. He taking an instant dislike to anyone should have been warning bells.

But the Prince's mind was caught up with the thought of those glittering emeralds, which promised healing and long life to his father. He mused on them long after Merlin had fallen asleep.

* * *

><p>Merlin flipped through the pages of a dusty tome. It had taken much time to find it in the darker recesses of the library, and even Geoffrey could not say with certainty where the court of Khazad was. It did leave an uneasy feeling in the librarian's mind, as he directed Merlin to the section of the library where records of foreign lands lived.<p>

The manservant was beginning to understand why. This book was over fifty years old, and written by a blind musician who traveled over lands playing his lute for coins. The man had written glowing descriptions of the music in Byzantium and the heat of Africa. There was even one section on Avalon, where "the air is sweet to smell but the waters deadly to drink, and there is an air of waiting for their own true king." The chapter on Khazad was short.

Even so, it was long enough to make Merlin shiver. The blind lutist said he wandered for many days over scrublands with no sound but the vibration of small hooves in large number crossing grazing grounds. As he walked to the heartland, where men said the tower of Khazad was, he felt more and more the presence of awful eyes. When he arrived, there was only silence. Fear grew on him until he began to flee, playing his lute as he went for protection. He escaped unharmed, but never traveled again, fearing to encounter another place whence the silence was so great and such a menace hanging over the land.

It wasn't any place Merlin wanted to take Arthur. Unfortunately the geography was also there, for a friend of the musician had drawn a map in the book and put his friend's path down in black ink. The musician had never come to Camelot, but he'd gone over most parts of Albion.

Khazad was south, and one corner just touched Camelot's southeast border. Merlin copied down the map with dread and resolved to tell Arthur that this was a bad idea, and not to venture in search of this necklace. He trooped from the library with a nod of thanks toward Geoffrey.

The Emeralds of Avalon however, weren't hard to find out about. Gaius had heard of them, and could attest to the truth that they were rumored to be great stones with which to clear the mind. Merlin's sense of doom increased. It was going to be hard to convince Arthur that this was something he should leave alone.

But it was difficult to maintain such a feel of gloom in the lower town. The merchant had set up booths and stalls all over, and all were full of exotic goods. Laughter rang in the air as children raced around and pretended to be knights, jabbing each other with toy swords bought from stalls while their fathers hefted real daggers with grim satisfaction and their mothers haggled over the price of spices.

"Merlin!" Gwen hurried over to him. Her face was lit up. "Did you see the stalls?"

"Well, yes. Hard not to." Gwen frowned at him, and Merlin shoved off his dour mood. "So, didja buy anything?"

"Oh, the food is wonderful and smell this perfume!" Gwen held up a bottle. "I've got seeds for my garden and jars for preserves, and Lancelot bought me this." Gwen lifted her chin. There was a delicate silver chain around her throat, with a pendant hanging from it.

Merlin peered closer. "What is it?"

"It's the word for love in another language." Gwen was practically glowing. "I told him not to buy me anything because there's simply no way he could afford it, but he's saved and as a knight he's paid amply so he went ahead and sprung it on me!"

"It's beautiful. You two are wonderful together." Merlin meant it. He didn't have the heart to begrudge Gwen and Lancelot the easy love they shared. It was blessedly uncomplicated, unlike what he and Arthur seemed to have between them. "Where is Lance anyways?"

"Oh, he's dragging Gwaine away from the liquor." Gwen giggled. "There's a man arguing that one cup of some wine will make a man dead drunk, and Gwaine was just dying to try it."

Merlin laughed. "I should go help him. Lancelot's not much of a match for Gwaine with a bottle in his sights."

Gwen looked at him severely.

"Oh, neither is Arthur." Gwen put a hand to her mouth, giggling. "Did you see Gwaine kick him over at practice yesterday?"

"Lancelot told me. I felt so bad for them both, especially when Arthur yanked him down into the dirt." Merlin grinned.

"He stole that from Lancelot." A new voice entered the scene. "What's up, fair lady and equally fair if less appealing in a purple dress lord?" Gwaine grinned at them both. Lancelot stood at his shoulder, looking harried.

"I was running errands for Arthur when I stopped to see the market." Merlin responded. Gwaine grinned.

"You should tell him to stuff it one of these days! And I see that necklace looks as beautiful on you as Lancelot claimed it would, my dear. We must elope together as soon as possible." Gwaine waved his hands. "We can all elope!"

"What did he drink?" Merlin asked Lancelot. The knight sighed.

"He's at least got the vendors impressed by Camelot. It took Gwaine three cups of their wine to get him this way." Lancelot wrinkled his nose. "Just the fumes made me light headed. Of course, then Gwaine had to buy a bottle of it and pass it around the whole circle of men who were applauding." Lancelot grimaced. Gwen, who was looking at Gwaine in a very concerned way, winced. Merlin sighed.

"I'll go find Leon. He's good at rounding up drunks. And I'm guessing the vendor also sold hangover cures?" Lancelot nodded.

"In all shapes and sizes. Thanks Merlin. I'm going to put Gwaine to bed before Gwen and I go on our picnic." Merlin flashed Gwen a grin. She blushed.

"You know, picnic _really_ means that-" Gwaine, who at this point was slumped over Lancelot's shoulders and grinning like a lout, made an obscene gesture with his hands. It was far more communicative than Lancelot's when he first met Merlin. Lancelot and Gwen both went red to their hairlines.

"That's enough from you." Lancelot began to drag Gwaine off, who was protesting because he had more sign language to teach. "Bye Merlin, Gwen."

Gwen shook her head as Lancelot hauled Gwaine away. "Honestly, that knight can be a bit much."

"He's entertaining though." Merlin commented. "Don't worry, nobody heard." Gwen's blush had receded.

"God, I hope not. Elyan has forced Lancelot to list his noble intentions so many times, if he ever caught a hint of anything happening before matrimony…" Gwen shuddered. "He'd try to stab Lance in his sleep."

"Oh, I'm sure you two will end up married someday." Merlin said optimistically. "When Arthur is King he'll be happy to grant Lance's request for marriage. It's just a pity he can't as a Prince."

"Thank you, Merlin." Gwen smiled at him. "Are you shopping at all?"

"Too much work, too little pay." Merlin smiled sheepishly. "I shouldn't have stopped at all, but I could hear the crowds from in the corridor. I've really got to go now actually, since I need to find Leon for drunk patrol." He trotted off, counting on instinct to lead him to Leon. Magical tracers on the knightly cloaks had been a _fantastic_ idea.

Gwen watched him. It was on the tip of her tongue to say that he should ask Arthur for money, or better yet, bring the prince out to the market and let him spend money on Merlin himself, but she held back. There was an unspoken agreement to not speak of what happened between Merlin and Arthur.

She was not one to break unspoken agreements.

* * *

><p>Merlin caught Arthur in his study, with the Merchant leaving. He thought there was a triumphant cast to the man's face. Arthur jumped when Merlin entered the room.<p>

"Merlin!"

"Who else do you expect?" Merlin sat down opposite Arthur. "What was the merchant selling today?"

"More than Camelot can possibly afford to buy." Arthur straightened a few papers. "And he's told me more of the Emeralds." Merlin groaned. "You found information on them?"

"Yes." Merlin shifted uncomfortably. "There's a blind musician who wrote about Khazad. It's on our southeast border. He says that it's empty, and that the tower where the court supposedly resided carried a feeling of great menace about it."

"It's uninhabited? Then the necklace might be there!" Merlin stared at Arthur.

"Did the feeling of menace bit just not enter your thick head?"

"He was _blind._ Probably just had a vivid imagination." Arthur paused. "My mind is made up."

"You're going to stay here and just buy the stupid bracelet?" Arthur glared at Merlin. He held up a gold band dotted with diamonds.

"I already did. But it does nothing without the necklace. We're going on a quest." Merlin groaned.

* * *

><p>The assembly of knights around the table was none to light hearted. Gwaine's head was pounding. Lancelot's mind was elsewhere. Elyan was speculating on where Gwen had been last afternoon. Incidentally, that was where Lancelot's mind was. Leon was glaring at Gwaine. Percival was doing his best to stay away from Leon.<p>

"I am going on a quest." That brought the attentions of his knights right back to Arthur. "I go to the land Khazad, and I seek the Emeralds of Avalon to heal my father's mind. They are in a necklace, at the tower where the court once was."

"Do you go alone, sire?" Lancelot straightened. His eyes were bright. "I would be glad to accompany you in so noble a mission."

"Oh, he's not going alone." Merlin, whose place at Arthur's side at the table was undisputed despite his not being a knight, spoke up. "I'm going, and Lance is welcome to come."

"I am always ready, my lord." Leon said. Arthur shook his head.

"I want you in charge while I'm away. I need a steady head around, to keep order until my father is restored." Arthur said. Leon was the most experienced of his knights, and one of the best at the day to day tasks.

"I'll come." Gwaine managed a sickly smile. Anything to get away from the wave that was going to break over his head when Leon got him alone and demanded why had to get so many men so utterly drunk early in the day. Besides, he didn't want Merlin going off questing alone with just his highness and Lance. "It'll be good to give my horse some exercise."

"Excellent." Arthur looked around with satisfaction. "Three knights is a good number. Plus Merlin of course, but he's just a pack mule."

"Oy!" Merlin glared at him. Arthur grinned. "Prat."

"Idiot. Everyone pack your things, we leave at dawn two days hence."

* * *

><p>The leaving of Arthur and his knights, plus Merlin, was not much remarked on. This was because on the same day they set off the Merchant left Camelot, with his sparkling wagons lightened and his dazzling girls hidden behind curtains. He smiled and waved as he led his people out.<p>

He had, after all, brought much happiness to a city that desperately needed it. If their purses were much lighter because of it, and he was carrying away stocks of gold, he was sure they wouldn't notice. The Merchant himself hummed to himself and felt the pouch of coinage that hung off his belt.

Solid gold nuggets, distributable in any corner of the world he might turn towards. A great reward for simply directing Prince Arthur towards his death. It hadn't even been difficult, and the man who paid him was well pleased.

The Merchant cheerfully wound away to the northwest, leaving Camelot behind.

Towards the southeast, a different party galloped. Arthur and his knights had cast aside the Pendragon emblem, for the sake of discretion. Arthur didn't expect to be attacked, but broadcasting himself as the sole heir to the throne while traveling with only three companions was inadvisable. He was picturing the necklace in his mind, and imagining his father sane once again.

Lancelot, who had bade Gwen a cheerful goodbye in the early mists of the morning, was in a good humor. He was questing for a good cause, fulfilling the knightly duties he'd wished for since he was a young child. It was enough to content him.

Gwaine had cheered. His head no longer pounded. He galloped along on his fine horse, going to a land he had not been, and the sun was out. Indeed, the only member of the party who was not pleasant was Merlin.

This was a bad idea. Merlin could feel it in his bones. He had failed to dissuade Arthur from going, and it resulted in an argument that ended up with Arthur sleeping on the farthest corner of the bed with his back to Merlin, then ignoring him the rest of the day. Merlin would have happily borne Arthur's bad temper for a month if he'd broken through.

But somehow those emeralds had enraptured Arthur. Merlin didn't know what the merchant said, or what went on in Arthur's mind. That itself was a rarity. Normally Arthur shared freely with him, and he'd learned to read the prince well. The very fact that it was hard to discern Arthur's thoughts made him nervous.

That was not all. Merlin had no opportunity to properly make up with Arthur on quests, and just that could make him cross. Arthur spent nights brooding over their fire, and was more uncommunicative than Merlin had seen him since the early days.

Most importantly, Arthur might be in danger. Merlin was weary of seeing Arthur hurt, and weary of lying to him about what happened while he was unconscious. He would protect Arthur to his last breath, but it was easier to protect someone when they bloody listened to you, instead of tramping off on quests.

Those were Merlin's thoughts as the terrain turned from forest to thin forest and then scrubland. The scrubland was harsh, and had very little coverage. To Arthur, it felt like the perfect place to build something.

To Merlin, it felt ominous. The tower could be seen as a stark line in the distance, black and isolated. There were no clouds as yet over these lands, just blue sky. It made the tower look even taller.

"Well, we're here." Arthur announced. Gwaine gazed around.

"At least we're in no danger of an ambush." He patted his horse's shoulder. "Good place for a gallop!"

"First we should find the locals." Arthur said. Lancelot was listening with interest. He had traveled far, but never actually quested before. "Those lumps in the distance look like they might be houses. We shall shelter in them for the night, then ride on to the tower at dawn."

"Or we could go back because there's nothing here?" Merlin suggested. Arthur glared at him over his shoulder.

"The tower is clearly _right there_. We're continuing." Merlin sighed and tapped his mare's flanks. She snorted agreeably and trotted after Arthur's stallion. Lancelot and Gwaine followed, making for the lumps that could just be seen.

* * *

><p>The houses were huts of clay scraped from under rocks and sticks, just barely kept up by ropes of sheep's wool and goat intestines. Arthur, with his companions around him, sat on the dirt floor. They were clustered around a low table constructed of bracken. On the other side, a skinny peasant stared at them suspiciously.<p>

"My name is Arthur, of Camelot." Arthur began. "This are Merlin, Gwaine, and Lancelot. We beg shelter for the night, and shelter for our horses."

"T' orses er aredy in 't pen." The peasant replied. He dropped into a cross legged position with the strange grace of someone who had never in their lives had a chair to sit on. "War ya 'n 't lands?"

Arthur swallowed. He found the peasant's garbled speech untranslatable. After a few moments of thought, helped along by a few whispers from Gwaine, Merlin, and Lancelot-having knights who were used to commoners and who had traveled was very helpful, any of the noble borns would've been useless here-he managed a reply.

"We are seeking the Emeralds of Avalon." That brought only a blank look. "We travel to the tower of Khazad."

The man shook his head. "Dernt."

"Why not?" Arthur trained his eyes on the man. "Is the court there?"

"Ter long ded." The peasant shuddered. The tower seemed to imbue terrible fear in him. "T's a bad place. Ger back t'yer lands a' mernin lite."

"We will not retreat." Arthur said. "We mean to make our way to Khazad at dawn, if you allow us shelter tonight."

"Dernt." The peasant spoke with total surety. "Y'll die."

"Because of what?" Night was falling as Arthur leaned closer. The peasant's wife came in from tending to the sheep. She lit one torch and then began dishing up gruel from a battered dish that hung from one wall. Apparently, she'd taken the appearance of four horses amongst the sheep and goats in stride.

"T' place." The peasant's voice sank to a whisper. "T's evil. T's a thing lurkn tere t'll kill aller ya, t'n w't'owt a sweat."

Arthur shook his head. "Have you been there?"

The peasant's eyes widened. "No! T's a terrble place."

"We mean to go there, whatever you say." Arthur warned. The peasant looked at them, without sadness. He clearly thought them all mad.

"T'll see ya 'n kill ya." Merlin shivered. His gaze swung round to Merlin. "Y'll lis'en t'me. Dernt go t' doom tower."

"I would love not to." Merlin said dryly. "Unfortunately, Arthur's a stubborn clot pole." The peasant raised his eyebrows.

"Ee a maddun?" Merlin shrugged. Arthur reached over and hit his shoulder.

"_Mer_lin! I am not mad!" Merlin shrugged again. The peasant let out a low chuckle.

"Mite b' b'tter tbeh maddun. T'mite save ya pain a t'death." Arthur sighed. The peasant's grim certainty that they would die, despite he himself having never seen the tower up close, spoke more of superstition to him.

Still. It was slightly heartening to know that Merlin was faithful enough to go with him despite completely disagreeing. It was easiest to be loyal when you were of the same mind.

"We set out at dawn. Will you still shelter us." The peasant shrugged.

"T' na rason not'. T'will ya leave yer 'orses? T'ernt do ya gud a t' tower."

"We shall. They are in your keeping until we return." The peasant snorted.

"T'ernt r'turnin."

**A/N: This is going to be a three-shot. Revieeeew and say you want to seeee iiiit…no, you should be glad you can't hear my wheedling tone right now. Believe me. **

**Oh, and I just realized which from which place I stole the name Khazad. Who knows it? (hint-it's not actually a tower, and the second part is -dum)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Part two. Thanks to-Sofiajedi, for proofreading and general awesomeness, and a friend whose fanfictionnet profile I still can't find for letting me be antisocial and spend hours alone in my room writing this.**

**Nina: Thanks! Merlin really does warm Arthur a lot, doesn't he? Catrina, Cedric, Sophia…that Prince needs to listen. **

**Euonym: Thanks for the compliments! Actually, I was just trying to think up a cool name and then when I finished and looked around, I noticed my copy of The Fellowship of the Ring sitting next to me. And headdesked. Then couldn't think up any other name. I'm so glad Tolkein isn't interesting in lawsuits…**

**ExDee LessThanThree: Thanks for reviewing!**

**Kluddle: Thanks! It was really fun to write ****J**

Rain rattled on the tower roof. The tower rose above the lands like a dark watchman, and none dared enter it. Not even when winds lashed the land and the few peasants who lived in that far corner of the world felt their huts blow away around them would they enter, though the rock was enduring and doubtless provided shelter. Even warmth might be found within, if one crept into the cavernous rooms and lit the hearths.

But none did. That tower was called the Watchmen for more reason than one, and in it's spire lived the Watch. The Watch's eyes peered out over it's domain, and it was more frightening by far than mere exposure.

The peasants felt those eyes. The lands the Watch dominated were sparse and bare, populated by goatherds in ragged tunics and their hard faced wives, those who worked their hands to the bone. Children were cautioned to play only around the outcroppings of rock, for fear of being swept up. The goats and sheep themselves were skinny and produced lean meat, but it was no matter.

No wolves preyed upon those beasts. Nor did peasants fear draught-the rains themselves were proof that water was plentiful enough. Starvation was held off by just the barest means, but it was not precisely hardship. The people under the watch were long used to a constant gnaw of hunger, and no longer thought of it.

These people might have lived differently and been prosperous. The wool from the sheep was good and might make fine cloth for cloaks and blankets, had they machinery not patched and worn. The goats themselves gave fair milk for the scrub they fed, and it could be traded. But fear ruled the lives of the people and it was their fear that kept them grounded in their hovels.

They feared the Watch. That thing that had rousted their old kings and queens from the tower, which now surveyed land from the highest window and knew it was secure. It knew not that it would not be much longer.

Travelers trudged across the lands. These were not the goatherds of the Watched Lands, but they were not fresh faced lads. Youthful perhaps, but with eyes that saw much and had seen worse. One strode ahead, purpose set in mind. Another followed that one, purpose more towards carrying and protection than the doing of great deeds. Another slogged along wishing for his horse. The next kept himself at the dog trot of a traveler, and was buoyed up by his own thrill at the doing of deeds. For all but one, scarlet capes stuck to their bodies and weighed them down.

Eyes spied them. Two great eyes of deep green, ringed with red, spotted the movement across the land. Slitted nostrils detected the traces of their scent even through the rain.

_Men._ Eyes narrowed. It did not wish men of that type, men who carried blades and smelled of danger. Another faint smell was with them, a _different_ smell, but it was soon lost. The Watch prepared to leave the tower, dive over the lands and destroy the men afore they had chance to strike.

But it paused. The winds howled outside, and there were things within that must be kept safe. The men could wait. The Watch retreated to the interior and turned it's back on the rain.

The men, far below, struggled on.

"_Mer_lin would you keep up!" The leader snapped over his shoulder. His mail and cape, so helpful against other threats, merely slowed him down now.

"I'm trying! You can carry your own baggage if you want any better!" The one upon whom bags were heaped, the least muscular, called back. It was he who carried that strange smell.

"Or you can move your arse." The leader, of the name Arthur, surname Pendragon, and title of Prince, muttered his words. The wind wetted his cloak and, for the sake of secrecy, he had taken one without the gold dragon badge that marked his heritage.

Had the Watch seen that badge, it would have destroyed him in a wrath. Or so it would be assumed.

"Go easy on him Arthur!" The one who slogged through mud with grumbling thoughts called ahead. He quickened his pace and took one of the bags Merlin carried. "It's hard traveling!"

Arthur ignored his knight and focused on the tower. It did carry a sinister air, but so did half the vaults in Camelot. He was not one to be frightened away by the mumblings of ignorant peasants.

"We all need to hurry! There's no shelter for miles around the tower, and there we'll be warm and dry!" Arthur ploughed on. The ground around the tower was barren, with no underbrush or rocks. He presumed it was in case of attack, so the former inhabitants would be absolutely safe from ambush.

Merlin quickened his pace to stay near Arthur. His sense of unease grew whenever he looked upon the blackened stones of the dead court. Gwaine and Lancelot hurried in response, not wishing to be left behind.

"We're nearly there!" There were no gates around the tower. In fact, as Arthur's stride took him close enough to see through rain, he saw that there was even no door. The entrance was a gaping hole, where once massive double doors would have been.

Arthur strode into the entry. Inside was total blackness. As the knights filed in around him, he groped blindly for a light.

"Here, hold on a moment." There was the sound of baggage clanking. Arthur scowled. The noise was very loud in this deserted place.

"Merlin, try to be a bit quieter!" Light flared up behind him, and Merlin stepped to his side. He held aloft a burning torch, one he'd somehow produced from inside a pack.

"There's no one here to hear it." Merlin murmured. The light had illuminated a hall that was devoid of life.

It must have once been a festive place. The whole base of the tower was one room, a room eerily similar to Camelot's great hall. Two long tables ran the length of the hall, with the seats around them toppled or smashed. At the head of the hall was a throne, fallen over on it's back. Behind it the cold hearth was a yawning mouth. The butts of torches hung with spider webs were set in iron holders on the walls, indicating that once this was well lit. Merlin's torch sent light up high enough to suggest the skeleton of a chandelier above them.

"God." murmured Gwaine. Arthur advanced. His boots made footprints on the dust coated flagstones.

"It's shelter." He said brusquely. "Merlin, light the fire. There's plenty of wood stacked by it."

"We should not be here." Merlin whispered. He felt more than just the absence of life, absence of even rodents and bugs. Above them, far above them, was hostility. What lurked in the high tower had no love for men, and it was powerful. The musician's words came to his mind, and Merlin desperately wished he had not been ignored.

"Don't be so superstitious, whatever's done this is long gone." Arthur was uneasy with only Merlin's torch lighting the hall. Gwaine and Lancelot had moved closer to each other, and closer to the light. "We need to dry our clothing."

"We should leave." Merlin said. He prayed that just this once, Arthur would listen. "We should go back to the hovels, and stay there. You can see there are no jewels here." That was true. The hall was stripped of ornament.

"This is one part of the tower. We haven't explored any of it!" Arthur responded. "We don't leave until we have the necklace."

"Fine." Merlin handed the torch to Arthur and walked up the hall to the hearth. He blew off the dust, then frowned and peered within. A pot was still suspended over the fire. Merlin lifted the lid and sniffed.

Some sort of stew. It had conglomerated, and looked rancid. Still, whatever had attacked had come upon the court quickly. Merlin removed the pot, resolving to clean it out later.

He tossed a few bits of wood into the grate then glanced over his shoulder. Arthur was pacing around a table, batting away spider webs. Gwaine kept close to him, and peered around with something like horror. Lancelot too stayed in the torch light, automatically righting the chairs.

No one to see him. Merlin held out a hand and pulled fire from his mind. His eyes flashed gold, and the wood caught. Merlin turned his hand palm up and the flames leapt, consuming one log with great speed and warming the air around the hearth. He tossed another log on and waited to make sure the flames burned steadily. When assured of the fact, he rose.

"Nice fire Merlin." Gwaine left the torchlight and held his hands out. Merlin was already peeling off his jacket, and Gwaine did the same to his cloak. "Pity there's not a tankard of ale for me, I'd be right at home."

Gwaine had gotten over his first impression. He seated himself on the back of the overturned throne and stretched his legs. The soles of his boots began to dry.

"This is a bad place." Lancelot commented. He laid his own cloak by the fire and wriggled from his chain mail.

"No one." Arthur joined them. He flung himself down next to Merlin and slapped the floor in frustration. "Not one single skeleton is in here."

"This is a bad thing why?" Merlin responded. He automatically began scraping the rotted wood from the pot. Arthur scowled.

"If the necklace was just on some lady's neck, we could have it and be gone by morning. Now we have to search the entire tower." Merlin frowned and pitched the last bits of food over his shoulder into the shadows. To his unease, it was not answered by the scrabbling of mice's claws.

"I still say we should leave." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Don't be such a wimp, _Mer_lin. You might have stayed home." Merlin shook his head. He could not conceive leaving Arthur to face the menace up in the tower alone. Merlin knew, though he knew not how, that Arthur was in as great danger in this place as he had ever been.

"Were you planning on cooking? I'm starving myself." Gwaine twitched his boots idly. "And Arthur, though it pains me to say it, is right. Nothing here but ghosts."

"Ghosts aren't real." Lancelot said. He too looked unafraid. Sitting cross legged, his shoes off by the fire and his clothing already starting to dry, Lancelot was far more at ease. "The whole place is empty."

"Do you _know_ that?" Merlin shot back. He opened his flash and poured water into the stewpot. It was followed by herbs, and bits of a rabbit Arthur shot before entering the lands. "Where are the bodies?"

"Probably someone came and buried them." Arthur said. "Any decent person would."

"And then leave this whole place?"

"Maybe they didn't like the terrain." The Prince rolled his shoulders. "It's not your job to argue."

"No, just to haul your remains back to Camelot." Merlin muttered. It wasn't quietly enough-Arthur cuffed the back of his head. Merlin shot him a glare, to which Arthur smirked in a manner most unrepentant.

"This is an interesting quest." Lancelot commented. Gwaine snorted.

"Hardly. I've been in bar fights with more excitement." Arthur glared. Merlin leaned forward between the two and fixed the stew above the fire. It broke the line of glare, and Gwaine looked away. "Those peasants had a lot of needless superstition."

"They were uneducated and had nothing else which with to occupy their time." Arthur said. He glanced at Merlin. "Any relation to you?"

"Shut up. My mother is my only family, and she's educated enough." Merlin snapped back. Arthur felt a stab of remorse. He'd been needlessly cruel with that comment, and now Lancelot was studiously avoiding looking at either and Gwaine was glaring at him.

Interesting. Lancelot and Gwaine had no family to speak of.

"When we find the necklace, I'll claim this land for Camelot. It stands on our borders anyway, perhaps we can help these people." That brought a smile to Merlin's face. Arthur bumped his manservant's shoulder. "There's a decent market for wool and goat milk."

Merlin smiled faintly. He thought any great plans would come to naught if Arthur did not leave this place alive. The thing inside the tower wasn't about to let anyone take the lands from under it's control.

* * *

><p>Gwaine sat on watch. Lancelot had curled on the floor with his boots as a pillow and his only slightly damp cloak covering him-an experienced traveler, he'd dealt with worse. Gwaine wondered how someone who had fought so many needless battles still held to his knightly ideals.<p>

Arthur himself also lay on the floor, his head on one of the packs Merlin lugged for miles. His cloak was covering him and Merlin. In his sleep the manservant had curled close to Arthur. Perhaps unconsciously, Arthur'd flung an arm over him and pulled him under the cloak.

Gwaine glanced round the hall. He could imagine it, in some other time, full of dancing and feasting. When he closed his eyes, he almost heard the music play. Alone, it was easier to shiver and wonder what had happened.

But there were worse places. Gwaine had seen villages wiped out by plague and old battlefields never cleared of bodies-he would handle an abandoned court. The knight turned his thoughts from the past and imagined the tale he might tell of this.

* * *

><p>They explored as soon as dawn light peeked through the high set windows. First to the cellars, revealed by a square hole where a wooden trapdoor should have been. Arthur went down first, then Lancelot. Merlin followed, with a torch to match Arthur's.<p>

After all, he feared for Arthur not in the depths. The heights were more threatening by far.

"Preserves." Lancelot said incredulously. He picked up a jar. "The glass of these is half melted."

"There's wine here too." Arthur crouched down and began brushing away at dust. "Merlin, help me."

Merlin began blowing away the inches of dust on the floor. He was far more efficient than Arthur, and soon their torches threw light on the blackened floor.

"That's a scorch mark." The prince muttered. He looked around. The jars and bottles nearest to the ladder were melted. The ladder itself was malformed-it seemed to have only survived for being made of metal. "This is the work of sorcery."

Merlin doubted it. A simple sorcerer he felt, would not radiate that darkness in his mind. Nor would a sorcerer be waiting, with such a feel of cunning.

"I don't think so. Why would they leave all this food?" Merlin picked up a bottle. "This is more valuable than half the stuff they serve in Camelot."

"Don't let Gwaine see it." advised Lancelot. He and Merlin swapped grins. "Lucky he went on the other side of the room."

"It must be. Nothing else exists that could do this." Arthur said flatly. "And Merlin, bring the finest vintages up with us. They'll make an excellent gift when my father is…restored." Merlin obediently gathered up bottles. He felt it would be good to have what many men called liquid courage when what was in the tower struck them. For sure they'd need all they could find.

"Arthur, Merlin, Lancelot!" They emerged from the cellar to see Gwaine gesturing for them. "I found a staircase that leads up!"

"Good. Merlin, bring a pack." Merlin scrambled to put the wine in a bag and catch up with Arthur. Gwaine had found a winding staircase that led upwards. This one was narrow enough that they had to walk single file. Merlin made sure he was directly behind Arthur.

It wound up perhaps twenty feet before they found a door. It was made of stone, and locked.

It took Arthur a few thrusts before he had it open. The inside was barren of life. It might once have been a bedroom, for a table stood in one corner, and a metal chamber pot rested on the floor. A window hung open.

"Nothing." Arthur was disgusted. "Perhaps the people all went mad and became goatherds."

"No." Lancelot's voice was odd. "The door was locked from the inside." Arthur stalked to the window and peered down.

"This window is large enough for a man to jump. Most likely suicide." Merlin edged closer to Arthur. The prince eyed him. "I'm not about to fall, Merlin."

"You might." Merlin poked his own head out the window. He looked to the sky. The rains had gone, but he could spot not one native in the open. Arthur placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder, protectively. He had no trust in Merlin's balance.

"Let's keep going." They progressed upwards. Still, only empty rooms with windows gaping. Arthur's frustration grew. Lancelot and Gwaine slowed to stay a few stairs behind Arthur, and kept Merlin between them and the irate prince. Merlin, for his part, ignored the possibility of Arthur lashing out at him. They were drawing closer to the lair.

At last, they came to another stone door. This one was beyond Arthur's strength to open. It took he, Gwaine and Lancelot's strength combined to budge it. When it fell open with a puff of dust, they had found the skeletons.

The door had been difficult to open because it had been blockaded, by a wardrobe and a bed. The wood both were made of had weakened such that they had cracked and collapsed when the door was forced.

"Check for the necklace." Arthur ordered. His voice was hollow. "We bury them after we find it."

The room held about ten skeletons. Two sprawled on the bed, entwined. The scraps of clothing indicated a noble lady's elaborate dress and a man's boots. Another hunched in a corner in a fetal position. One was prostrate on the floor, another eagle spread with head resting on a pillow.

All were dressed in clothing appropriate for feasting. The wardrobe, upon inspection, was full of beautiful silk dresses, but most not sized for the skeletons. Arthur judged that they'd fled up here, and starved to death. He shuddered.

"I don't see it." Lancelot's voice broke through his imagination. The knight held out a fistful of jewelry. There were earrings that dripped diamonds and gold, broaches that still sparkled even after years of dust, and a few necklaces. But none the necklace they sought, none were pure gold with emeralds the size of fists and sapphires around them like peacock feathers.

"Me either." Gwaine shrugged. "Only average bits of fancy."

"Why did they lock themselves in?" Arthur asked himself. "What was so terrifying they would rather starve in isolation than even attempt a fight?"

"Arthur?" Merlin bent over a skeleton in a chair. This one held in skeletal fingers a book. A dried up inkwell was on one arm of the chair, and a pen was clenched in one fist. "Here."

"Let me see." Arthur flipped through crackling pages. "It's a journal."

_**Solstice 1132**__- Going to the feast tonight. We shall see if Sir Robert likes so to ignore me in this dress, with the bodice pulled yet lower and handsome Sir Filne on my arm. I believe that the Queen will even wear her emeralds, the ones that glow so in the light of the fire. I do believe that the King adores her ten times as much when she wears those, for his eyes never leave her chest. I much prefer his leery eyes there than peering down mine, for sure. But I must run, Sir Filne calls. If he helps my cause, I may allow him to see what wonders the neckline scarce conceals in full, but only that. My bed remains the property of dear Robert._

_I know not what to mark this. It is the same day but the merry feast seems to be in a different lifetime. I cannot even keep track of the day, for this room has no window. It is our salvation that it has none, for we are here impregnable, but there is no food. I must recount it as well as can be, to remember. _

_We were feasting, and I was dancing with Sir Filne. Poor, poor, Sir Filne, who died so thoughtlessly. I scarce appreciated him, and hope that he found some pleasure in his last night. But to our feast-we danced, and many sat at tables. The King and Queen were at their thrones, his eyes of course on her emeralds. I was dancing. I never completed that dance. And here there is scarce music, for our singer is below in a windowed room. In the middle of a song, there was a roar of sound. The great oak doors smoked at the edges then burst to flame. _

_Oh, the flames! They were white hot. Then it came, crashed through the doors and was among us. Nobles screamed, yelled, flew from their chairs. It had many dead in a moment, for those massive claws and jaws-my God, the teeth were as big as my ring finger-snapped and crunched vertebrae without effort. I saw people run for the cellar, and would have joined them. Sir Robert was among those. _

_But a thought intruded. Would not something that breathed fire roast those in a cellar with a wooden door? It lunged across the floor and went for the Queen. She was standing proud in front of the throne, emeralds shining. It penetrated her with a bloody claw, and lifted the diamond from her snapped neck. Then it blasted fire down to the cellar, and was not afeard to kill our best knights. Then Sir Filne pulled me away and we joined the crowds running up the stairs._

_I and a few others bypassed most of the doors. We knew no windowed room was safe, not from a creature with such wings. We ran for Lady Margot's room. She has no window, for the sun causes her such awful headaches. We came in just in time, for the creature sent fire up the stairwell after us. I was last into the room, and I saw poor Sir Filne's bones melt and clothing burn to ashes in seconds. I closed the door and we began fortifying our defense, in case that beast might somehow come up the stairs. I doubt it, but we feel heat at the door every now and then, so mayhap it sends up fire whenever the fancy strikes. Either way, there is no hope of escape._

_**Solstice 1133**__- I wonder if rescue is out of the question. Lady Helen, who spends all her time in the arms of Sir Mattheus, suggests Camelot. Are they not powerful? Is King Uther not a man who would help us in our plight? I decline to mention that King Uther does not even know we are dying, and that no man can kill a beast with that scaly hide. _

_I have now lost all reckoning of time. I only know it passes because the ache in my belly grows fiercer, and my dress looser. Lady Helen and Sir Mattheus merely lie in bed together, preserving energy. I read. It is a comfort. There is a strange quiet upon the room. We are all so afraid. _

_I have weakened. I see life before this as something I should have loved more, treasured to a greater extent. What I would give for a glass of that bad wine we mocked as being only good after twenty years, or even a mouthful of shepherd's pie. How we used to worry about our waistlines before. Now it seems an irony that we ladies are dying of that very thing we aspired to-small bellies. I pray daily for a miracle._

_Sir Fersoth has run mad. He spends his time whimpering and wailing, curled up in the corner like some scarecrow child. The maid who flew up here with us, Jae, speaks constantly of food. I would rise and slap her mouth shut for she helps no one, but I am too tired. Please, Uther, come for us. _

_No miracle has come. I am very frail now, like an old woman. We could not leave if we tried, for none can push aside the blockade. I leave this record now if a lonely traveler passes through and strays into our tower for shelter. I tell you only to prepare your last rites and be ready, for there is no escape from this accursed place._

_Weak now. Most have died. I do not think I shall wake again. Fear dragons, weary traveler, and carry our story outwards. And I beg you, pray for our souls. _

_Lady Catrina of the family Daen. _

Arthur closed the journal. Gwaine and Lancelot were silent.

"Dragons." He hissed. Merlin flinched. He knew now why he could feel so perfectly the mind of what lived up at the top of the spire. "I thought my father wiped out them all."

"Clearly not." Lancelot muttered. He gripped his sword hilt. Gwaine did the same, his eyes fierce. "You said you killed one once?"

"Yes. And I can do it again." Arthur turned around. "It's probably at the top, since it can fly." Merlin grabbed his arm.

"Wait! If you fight with a dragon in close quarters you're going to be roasted!" Merlin lowered his voice. "This isn't a fight you can win Arthur. We should flee while it isn't in the tower." Merlin could feel that the presence had left them several hours ago.

Arthur pulled his arm away. "That's what they said about the first fight, and I'm sill alive. We should find the lair while it isn't here, and then ambush the thing!"

Gwaine and Lancelot's nods of agreement were almost synchronized. Merlin frantically reached out with his mind, hoping to intercept the dragon before it reached here. Every nerve in him jangled as his instincts warred.

Save the dragon. _Dragonlord feelings. There must have been more to the story._

Protect Arthur. _His heart. Arthur must not know that his loyalties were divided here._

His confusion served no one. Arthur stormed from the chamber and upward, Gwaine and Lancelot following. Merlin had to follow them, or lose them all. He had no idea how to find a dragon with his mind, he'd never been trained, never gotten a manual on what to do at times like this-

It was unimportant. Arthur reached the highest chamber, and Merlin followed because it was Arthur, and what else was he to do?

"The necklace must be here." Arthur said triumphantly. The chamber was heaped with gold and precious stones. Chests with indents in them from being carried in claws stood open to display hundreds of coins. "Knights, spread out and search."

It was unfortunate that the dragon flew home then.

* * *

><p>The Watch had gone flying that day. The men were in the largest hall, where it would avoid going for the expense of fire. They would keep. Probably treasure hunters.<p>

Instead it glided over the lands, casting shadows on huts and causing the few peasants caught in the open to fall upon their faces on grass in fear. It wasn't hungry, so it took no sheep or goats, but went to instill fear.

They had to be kept under control, frightened, and subservient. The foreign men might have caused ideas to bloom, made them think that they weren't under it's dominance and therefore protection. The quick flight convinced it that there was no uprising to fear.

But as it went home, it caught foreign man scent. In it's own den! Wings beat faster, rushing air and soaring with greater speed than any horse. It burst into the chamber. It could not belch flame, as it would in other places, for the gold might melt.

Instead it opened wings and caught one of the men on the forehead, sending him into a pile of gold. He went limp there. In the next beat another tried to use steel on the dragon-ha! No steel would penetrate dragon scale.

That one was pushed out and down, down stairs. The next was pitched to the floor, and eyes fluttered shut, as it prepared to bit down and then-

"_**Stop!"**_

* * *

><p>Merlin roared. The dragon reared up in shock then down. The wings spread and it crouched, neck extended and head down. The position was utterly deferential.<p>

His tone changed to a croon, calming growls and sounds that no human would pronounce but made up the dragon tongue. The dragon shivered, green eyes partially closed. The red ring that would cover the pupil when fire was summoned was merely a pink line.

" _**My Lord."**_ The dragon said reverentially. _**"I knew not. Never would I attack your"**_ she breathed in, inhaling the scents _**"lover. My sorrow is great."**_

"_**Who are you? Kilgarrah believed himself to be the only one, and my father Balinor never said differently."**_

"_**I grieve for Balinor. I am Faerscaer, and I did not answer the call when it came to Camelot, for I had other business and it was not for me. They knew not to call me. Then I heard the screams."**_ Her voice turned wroth. _**"Balinor said that I should stay away, and Kilgarrah must be run mad."**_

Merlin let his agreement be felt in their minds. His mind turned to the people below.

"_**Many in this place had died, and you attacked them unprovoked."**_ Faerscaer turned her head up and tipped it inquiringly.

"_**This tower? I had need for a safe den, and made bargain with their King. He broke faith with me, and so I with him. This was no good King. His people starved on the moors and scraped out living, I felt it no great loss. Now I keep these lands."**_

"_**They will be under control of Camelot."**_ She looked up, her eyes widened.

"_**My lord, no! King Uther shall destroy all that lies within, and all our future!"**_ Merlin raised his eyebrows. A certain sardonic trace entered his voice.

"_**Certainly, now that you hurt his son."**_ Faerscaer's gaze turned to Arthur, and red began replacing the green in her eyes. _**"No. Arthur is a good man, you will not harm him."**_

"_**He would kill me."**_ Faerscaer's voice held confusion. _**"You love this man who is the son of one who slaughtered our kin?"**_

"_**Sons and Fathers differ. He came here only to retrieve a certain necklace, one said to soothe the mind and spirits. Uther's mind has broken, and he wants to heal him with a son's devotion." **_

"_**His father killed mine, and my mate."**_ But Faerscaer was resigned. She could no more refuse her lord than she could turn herself to a tree. _**"You may have the Emeralds of Avalon, if you so desire. They are only a trinket to me." **_

"_**What are you protecting?"**_ Merlin felt that in her. All the careful subordination of the people, the immediate destruction of any in her nest, was not self preservation. Self preservation would have been to fly to the farthest corner of the world from Camelot.

Faerscaer rose and moved to another corner of the chamber, where heaps of gold were mounded on one side. On the other was a depression where she clearly slept, curled round her precious charge.

Five eggs lay in the nest. They rested on swathes of silk purloined from distant courts. The eggs were roughly large enough that Merlin could carry one in his arms. In color they were a pale gold and speckled.

"_**My eggs. The future of our kin."**_ Faerscaer's tone held pride. She leaned into the next and blew hot air on them. The gold around them kept the whole place like a furnace.

"_**They're beautiful."**_ Merlin climbed into the nest and rested his hand on one. He was aware that if he wasn't a dragon lord, the dragon mother's wrath at this would be terrible to behold. Under his hand, it seemed like the contents of the egg shifted just a bit. _**"How long until they hatch?"**_

"_**Around five years. You see why the natives must be kept under dominance? They will not fly for a year after hatching. They will need me for ten years longer, and even then would not be safe alone in the world."**_ Merlin could feel the sadness in her voice. It would be a lonely existence remaining here alone, doing nothing but warm your eggs and ensure that no one came close to you.

It rather made him want to see his own mother.

"_**I understand. I'll…deal with Arthur somehow." **_

"_**None of them are seriously hurt." **_Faerscaer assured him. Merlin nodded. He would know if Arthur was in true danger.

* * *

><p>Arthur, for virtue of being most often knocked out, was first to awaken. He blinked, wincing at the glitter the gold cast on his eyes.<p>

Merlin. What happened to Merlin?

Ah, there he was. Sitting on a mound of gold, talking to an enormous dragon, with a hide of light green brushed with gold and grey claws the size of his head. They appeared to be quite friendly.

"Merlin?" He groaned. Speaking hurt. Merlin rushed to his side.

"Arthur! Listen, we need to talk. About the dragon." Arthur felt fuzzy.

"The dragon? Oh 's right over there. 'S watching me. Don' worry, I see." Merlin shook his head. Arthur watched the blue of his eyes swim.

"No, about why you came. Remember the necklace?" The blurry feeling of his senses was coming back into focus.

"The Emeralds of Avalon-wait!" Arthur tried to leap to his feet and only made it to his elbows. "That's the beast!"

"It's rude to call her a beast." Arthur shot Merlin an incredulous look. "We've been speaking."

"It speaks English?"

"Yes your highness." Arthur squeaked as the dragon spoke. "Many languages."

"Merlin!" Merlin brushed some of his hair off his forehead.

"Shh. Listen, we worked out an agreement. She's going to give us the Emeralds of Avalon. We leave and never speak of this to Uther. If they even work, which no one is sure of." Arthur glared.

"No, we're killing it and taking the entire horde." Merlin rolled his eyes.

"You can hardly move." Arthur scowled. "The fact that Faerscaer hasn't killed us both despite us being at her mercy is a sign of her benevolence."

"Fahscar?" Arthur said. He couldn't move his tongue around half that word. "Camelot does not deal with dragons."

"No, you use our own kin against us to kill us for a highly debatable crime which we had nothing to do with." Faerscaer said tartly. Her claws scraped the floor. "Take them and leave. The dragon empire will parley with you as king, you have my word."

"The dragon _empire?_"

"They aren't all dead." Merlin pressed his hands to Arthur's. "And there are hordes like this one scattered over the world. When you're King, you'll have a right to the contents of many. Moreso, there are passes once secured by dragons, and some that still are. Think Arthur, of having dragons on your side."

"We can see what they did to this castle." Arthur ground out.

"I had deal with the King, and he broke it. I needed this place, whether or not he wished to honor us." Her eyes narrowed. "And I did not take out my vengeance on every member of every race even vaguely associated with humanity."

Arthur flopped down. His head was in Merlin's lap now, and that was a nice feeling.

"The Emeralds?" Merlin held out his hand. The necklace was, as promised, beautiful. Five massive emeralds, all set in shining gold and surrounded by tiny sapphires. They seemed to emit a gentle green light. "Your sworn word that you shall do nothing to harm Camelot. Ever."

Faerscaer inclined her head. "That has already been given. You may go in peace, and believe me Arthur Pendragon, we shall meet again." Arthur tucked the emeralds into a pouch on his belt. With an arm around Merlin's shoulders he managed to stagger to his feet.

"We will, and you will honor your promise." Merlin glanced over Arthur's shoulder at Faerscaer as they went to wake Gwaine. They exchanged a silent promise of Lord to Vassal, that Faerscaer's eggs would be protected.

"_One more thing my lord."_ Faerscaer said in his mind.

"_Yes?"_

"_Beware the Emeralds of Avalon."_

**A/N: I heart Rain. It makes such a wonderful sound on the roof as you write. The thought of rain on a tower roof set off this whole three-shot, because I wrote this part then the first chapter then the third chapter. I don't know why people like sunny days more than rainy ones, the sunny ones are much more difficult to write during. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: As always, Sofiajedi is my hero. And an enormous thanks to all who reviewed.**

They rode from the land of Khazad with an escort. There were a few shocked peasants crowding around them at first, demanding to know what had happened and why they yet breathed. Those men and women had scattered when their other escort soared above them.

The dragon, who provided a helpful blanket of shade for the riders as they galloped, would only see them to the borders of her lands. It was partially a gesture of respect to her Lord, who looked as if he would burn in the hot sun, and partially to watch her treasure leave.

The Emeralds were invisible, resting in a pouch that was mere inches from the Prince's left hand. They had been taken into her hoard for their outstanding beauty, and their magic was not of the dragons. The necklace held no power over her that all precious things did not have in equal supply.

But over men, she might worry. Her Lord was protected by his own blood, and more importantly by the infinite power that radiated from his core. But the others? That one who thought of his Lady love back home, would he be immune? Or the rouge, who carried himself stiff for his injuries?

Or her Lord's lover, whose fingers even now twitched closer to those gems. He stood out clearest in her eyes, if only because of his golden hair where his companions were dark. She held him in mistrust. Uther toyed with magic once, before he turned on it.

It could only be hoped that he had a stronger heart than his father, and that her Lord would keep it noble. She reached the border, where scrub turned to holly bushes and saplings, then turned. One wing dipped down to balance her, and she sent up a tendril of flame in salute.

Merlin reined in his mare to wave back. Faerscaer acknowledged it with a glance that he recognized as both farewell and thanks. Merlin grinned back.

"I find it disturbing that you made friends with a dragon." Gwaine commented. His arm was bandaged and in a sling. "Who threw me into a pile of very heavy gold."

"She thought you were attacking her!" Merlin protested. He thought a moment. "And you were trying to set up an ambush. Can't blame a dragon for protecting her own home."

"Besides, we all know that Merlin has made friends with fouler lizards than that one." Lancelot had taken being tossed down a flight of steps with impressive good grace. He nodded his head in Arthur's direction. Gwaine and Merlin laughed.

"Are you going to shut up anytime soon?" Arthur snapped over his shoulder. He glared at the knights. "It's a three day gallop back to Camelot, and it'll be a lot more peaceful without you all nattering in my ears the whole time."

"I think he resents being called a lizard." Gwaine said to Lancelot. "Maybe worm would be better?"

"I said toad." Merlin grinned at Arthur. "Or possibly a stoat."

"You're all morons." Arthur growled. "Don't you have better things to think about?"

"Not really, no." Gwaine answered for them all. His horse, who had been relieved to be taken from that drafty pen, barely needed steering. They were so used to one another's company that Gwaine could move her with only his knees. Lancelot's stallion was less cheerful, but smart enough to follow Arthur's horse. Merlin had magic on his side when riding, and it gave him an uncanny knack with his horse. Though she was an extremely even tempered girl already.

"Great." Arthur scowled. "At least we got the necklace."

"What does it look like anyways?" Lancelot asked. "You haven't shown it to us."

"We can't stop." Arthur replied flatly. "And it's hardly your concern what the Emeralds appear as."

"Considering we've been knocked around fighting a bloody dragon for the things, I'd say it is." Gwaine said. "Why don't you show us?"

"You can see them when we make camp. Until then, shut up." It was Merlin's pleading glance that convinced Gwaine.

* * *

><p>Arthur sat by the fire, brooding. Gwaine and Lancelot were long since asleep, curled up under their cloaks by the fireside. Merlin was sprawled on his side of the fire, and Arthur had seen it fit to give him his cloak. He couldn't have Merlin freezing to death because the sap skull didn't own a proper jacket.<p>

In one hand, the necklace glittered. Arthur shifted his fingers and the gold chain slid through them. In the glow of the flames, each link had it's own sparkle. The emeralds themselves, just as enormous as promised, hung around his open palm.

They were beautiful. Arthur touched one with his thumb, and it was smooth as the blade of his sword. Whoever had cut them, they had been a master jewel smith. Light reflected off them in shades of green and flashes of blue where the sapphires danced.

"What are you doing?" He started, but not enough to draw a sword. After all, that was Merlin's voice. The man had woken up, if he'd ever been asleep, and was looking at him strangely. With the overlarge red cloak drawn around his shoulders and his neck exposed, Merlin looked perfectly ravishable. Before Arthur could think on that and the irritating fact that there were two other knights around the fire, the jewels he held drew his gaze.

"I couldn't sleep." They had kept him up. The necklace seemed unsafe without someone constantly awake to guard it. What if someone-he didn't suspect Gwaine and Lancelot, not when they'd barely gotten a glance at it, and Merlin was _Merlin_ but they might not be alone in the woods-had crept up to the fire and taken them while he slumbered? "And you?"

"Same." Merlin kept seeing the firelight curl around the jewels Arthur was fondling. The flames looked like tendrils of blood. He inched closer to Arthur.

"I still can't believe it let them go like that." Arthur brushed his fingers over an emerald. "They're beautiful."

"There's plenty of stuff in that hoard." Merlin eyed the necklace. "And they aren't _that_ pretty."

"What?" Arthur blinked at Merlin. "I've never seen such perfection as this." Merlin shrugged.

"I suppose. They're rather gaudy though, and who needs five huge rocks weighing them down, not to mention all that gold. Seems like you'd end up with a sore neck after one night." Arthur laughed. It was surprisingly devoid of any malice, or anger that his beloved prize had been insulted.

"Only for a weakling like you, _Mer_lin. You take them and watch them, I'm going to bed." Arthur yawned and tossed the necklace to Merlin. Merlin caught it with a grunt. "Guard them with your life."

"No thanks, I think I'll just wake you up." Arthur settled down, his head on Merlin's thigh. It sent tingles running up Merlin's leg. He smiled softly and put one hand on Arthur's hair. The Prince had fallen asleep immediately, doubtless more tired than he knew.

Merlin idly switched his attention to the necklace. The emeralds winked up at him, and sat cold in his hands. Frankly, the wizard through the simple pendant Lancelot bought Gwen was prettier, and a lot easier to haul around.

* * *

><p>They set out again at dawn, with only a few minutes spared for breakfast. That day Arthur rode with one hand in his pouch, so he could feel the necklace with him. They cantered along without enormous difficulty, going through territory that was by all reports both peaceful and content.<p>

The men lurking in the woods would argue differently. They were only ordinary bandits, nothing special, and would scarce have made even a tiny dent in history if it had been a different party they attacked. Indeed, such a motley collection of men-mostly servants who had stolen their master's least valuable weaponry and a few deserting soldiers-would not have normally attacked four travelers such as these. Not strong men who carried long swords at their hips and rode without obvious wealth.

But something compelled them. For reasons beyond his limited mind the leader, a sergeant who deserted his forces when it was clear that Cenred was not leading them but a sorceress, saw the horsemen and desired to attack them. His men, mostly dullards whose only true skills were in drinking, mirrored the desire.

More fool them. Those who they sprang upon were unprepared for sure, but not unarmed or untrained. The bandits charged down to the path, yelling and waving swords.

Lancelot dismounted and met the first bandit head on, slamming his hilt into the man's head. The bandit leader's eyes rolled up in his head and he crumpled. Lancelot ducked under another blade and swung, disemboweling a man without effort and following it with a thrust to the heart. He was never one to let someone suffer.

Gwaine charged instantly, his blade ringing on steel before slicing through the cheap sword of the man attacking him. The man gulped, and his last feeling before a sword sliced his throat was surprise. Gwaine wheeled, blade bloodstained, to check on Merlin.

He needn't have. The man who'd attempted to grab Merlin was lying on the ground unconscious, for no apparent reason. Merlin had stabbed another with speed that for an untrained fighter was near unnatural. He frantically looked for Arthur.

Arthur's horse had reared, and the necklace gone flying from the open pouch. Arthur whipped around searching for it, finally spotting the shining piece of gold on the ground. A bandit was staring at it, open mouthed.

He bent down to pick it up. His cutlass had fallen from his hands in his reverie.

"Get away from that, it's _mine!_" Arthur lunged, unsheathing his blade as he went, and in one mighty hack severed the man's head from his shoulders. He crouched down, unmindful of danger, and grabbed the necklace. He fondled it in his hand for a second, smiling in relief.

The emeralds were safe. They had to be cleaned, but they were safe and in his possession, as was only right.

It was good for Arthur that his companions had disposed of the other bandits. He was in a vulnerable position, with his back to the battlefield and his sword forgotten.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked. He looked worriedly at the prince. His green eyes, usually a paler color, seemed almost the same rich green as the emeralds. Arthur looked up, blinking.

"We need to find a stream and wash these. The bandit got blood on them." Merlin frowned. Arthur still held the necklace in one hand.

"Must we?" Lancelot asked. "I was hoping we could push and get to Camelot by tomorrow morning." He was eager to see Gwen again, and sleep in his own bed. Gwaine was of the same mind.

"No." Arthur glared. "We stop as soon as we hear water. I want to see these clean before there's a chance of the blood staining them."

"Maybe you could wipe them off with a cloth and then just put them away?" Merlin said tentatively. Arthur shook his head imperiously.

"Impossible. You saw what happened the last time I let them out of my grip-they were almost _stolen_. I refuse to take that chance again." Gwaine rolled his eyes. "Did you have comment, Sir Gwaine?"

"Yes-why don't you just wash the damn things in Camelot?" Arthur shook his head. "If you think they're in that much danger, I'll put them in my boots."

"_No_." Arthur said vehemently. His hand closed convulsively on the gems. "They're safest with me, I'm the best fighter."

"That's debatable…" muttered Merlin. The warlock's sense of dread only increased when he saw the way Arthur was gripping the gems. He walked up to Arthur and touched his hand. "Arthur, you're going to cut yourself."

Arthur blinked and looked down. He _was_ holding to the necklace rather tightly, and under Merlin's gentle fingers his own unclasped.

"We find a stream. There should be one only miles away." He shoved past Merlin and mounted his horse. "Northwards."

Merlin could feel the annoyance growing on one side of him-Lancelot. Behind, Gwaine's frustration was building up. He bit the inside of his cheek, hoping that neither was going to do anything foolish.

Arthur went for the stream with single minded purpose. He dismounted and tossed the reins to Merlin, ignoring his lover's squeak of protest. In another stride he was kneeling by the river and had the emeralds in his hands.

"You made us divert path just for that? They're spotless!" Arthur turned the necklace over in his hands. Any blood that he thought had spattered on them when he beheaded that thief was gone. He must have rubbed it off with his hands, or perhaps he'd imagined it.

"They still should be polished." He dipped them in the water, keeping a tight grip. The place they stopped was a quick flowing river, only yards from where it tumbled into a waterfall. The merry sound of crashing water helped dull Gwaine's furious mutters and Lancelot's disconsolate grumbles.

"Here, let me clean the damn things." Gwaine stepped next to Arthur and reached for the necklace. Merlin shivered, thinking he felt something dark and slimy writhe.

Arthur was not by nature murderous, let alone to those of whom Merlin was fond. He meant only to edge away from his knight and tell the man just who the emeralds belonged to. The grass their boots were on was dampened by the waves that splashed along the banks, and muddy. It was not his intent to elbow Gwaine into the river.

Lancelot, scratching at his horse's ears, didn't realize what had happened until he heard Gwaine's yell and saw the knight plunge underwater. Arthur's mouth fell open as he wondered how such a sure footed man had gone into the river.

Merlin however, because he had been watching Arthur closely, saw when Arthur's arm intercepted Gwaine's shin and tumbled the man into the river. Merlin, being fully aware of how chain mail sinks, was the first to react.

He ran forward. Merlin's eyes, out of Arthur's line of vision, turned brilliant gold. A rock suddenly appeared in Gwaine's reach, where Arthur in his bewilderment would think that he just hadn't noticed. Gwaine grabbed it, as Merlin splashed into the water thinking of spells.

"Grab my hand!" Gwaine did so without question. Merlin's face was still turned away as he hauled Gwaine from water where the current was strangely absent. Gwaine staggered onto shore spluttering and coughing, weighed down by mail.

"He tripped me!" Gwaine pointed at Arthur. "That bloody prince tripped me!"

"Are you insane? Why would I try to drown one of my own knights? You slipped off the bank!" Arthur responded. He was angry, angrier perhaps than the situation demanded. He could very well have tripped Gwaine by accident, and the slippery grass done the rest.

But the thought sounded like an insult, by a man who could be rather useless and untrustworthy when he thought about it. Gwaine opened his mouth to furiously retort that he didn't know _why_ but Arthur had, when Merlin put a hand on his arm.

"We need to make camp here." The manservant said. He touched Gwaine's bandages. "These are soaked through. If I don't replace them, your arm is going to be in a lot of pain."

"It already is." Gwaine grumbled. But Merlin had soothed him, and he sat down with his back to a tree. "Bloody quests are a waste of time."

Merlin had his hand on Arthur's shoulder before the prince could defend his new jewelry. Arthur grimly stayed silent, thinking of ways to dock Gwaine's pay. He had looped the gold chain around his wrist so that the emeralds were never far from his fingers.

Lancelot flopped to the ground, exhaling. A red haze had begun to grow in the back of his mind. _Why_ did Gwaine have to fall into a river? Now they wouldn't be back in Camelot and he wouldn't be with Gwen for an extra day! Well he certainly had no intention of gathering firewood.

Arthur sat down as well, the poisonous look he sent both knights indicating that he had no intention of helping. Merlin sighed and trooped into the forest for firewood.

* * *

><p>Merlin drifted through the forest. He nodded to the ringdoves, who fluttered their wings and settled all the more comfortably on their nests. A grin towards a mother deer and her speckled fawn, who dashed forward to nose his fingers before hastening to her serene mother's side. A bear lumbered past, sparing Merlin only a grunt of acknowledgement before returning to his search for grubs.<p>

The wizard held out a hand and watched the firewood leap into it. He could feel hints of nostalgia here, as if he was back in Ealdor and Will would soon scramble over a log and demand that he stop cheating.

But the time of Ealdor was gone, and Merlin had knights to care for. Still, it would do no harm to linger here another few minutes. A flash of red caught his eye and Merlin turned to see a fox crouched in the underbrush, bright black eyes sparkling up at him.

"Hello Renard." Merlin crouched down at smiled at the fox. It barked once, the peculiar high pitched bark of foxes who rarely open their mouths to alert others of their whereabouts. Merlin's brow furrowed.

"The knights are in danger." He heard the words flow from the fox's muzzle as it barked. Merlin had taken messages from certain animals before, those blessed with clearer sight than their compatriots and who were deeply in touch with the magic of the forest.

"Why?" The fox's fur was all on end he saw, and the tail bristled up. It shook it's head, eyes darting.

"Bad." Merlin understood that there were few things which the creatures of the forest would themselves label bad, for they lived in a world removed from man's perceptions. That an animal would call something such made him deeply uneasy.

"Thank you." The fox dipped it's head to him and was gone, away through the brush to a den or stored meal. Merlin dashed toward camp, shedding his heavier pieces of wood. He caught a glimpse of the ringdoves with their heads tucked under wings, and fear grew.

Then came upraised voices. Merlin burst into camp to see Lancelot and Arthur both on their feet and yelling. Gwaine was swearing in pain, and his bandages had new spots of red on them.

"_What_ is happening?" Merlin said incredulously. Gwaine paused his swearing long enough to hiss out a response.

"That fool Lancelot kicked my arm when he hopped to his feet, and it dislocated something." Gwaine went back to cradling the arm, cursing. Arthur and Lancelot were at the point of exchanging blows, Merlin could see.

"You don't know how to love!"

"_Love?_ If that strumpet is even capable of emotion deeper than giggles, I'll chop my own head off!"

"Allow me!" Lancelot stepped closer to Arthur, his hand on his sword hilt. Merlin stepped between them.

"What _happened?_" He repeated. One hand was on Arthur's chest and the prince relaxed his stance. Lancelot furiously gestured towards Arthur.

"He insulted Gwen!"

"Lancelot was undermining my authority and the purpose of the quest!" Merlin blinked and looked between them. Lancelot was breathing heavily, and rare fury showed in his features. Arthur's anger seemed diminishing, but there was heat in his eyes that belied hope of reconciliation.

"You two are idiots." Merlin said. He glared at Arthur. "Lancelot doesn't undermine your authority, he's very loyal, and he was the first one to volunteer for this stupid quest!" He turned to Lancelot. "Arthur knows Gwen to be a wonderful human being, so _quit_ arguing about her."

Merlin had rather hoped Arthur had cooled enough towards Gwen to not be drawn into argument over her. That he apparently wasn't was an icicle to the heart.

"Fine." Arthur turned away and sat back down. "You are lucky that Merlin was here, Lancelot."

"Please, we've all heard the myriad of tales wherein Lancelot is proven far better at the knightly arts." Gwaine snapped. He'd forgotten that a moment ago he had been wishing for Lancelot's head on a pike. "Don't act as though it wasn't your sorry hide that Merlin saved."

"Gwaine, _shut up_." Merlin hissed. He bent down and began undoing bandages. Gwaine gnashed his teeth but was silent, and Arthur restrained himself from leaping at Gwaine. Merlin was next to him and might be caught in crossfire.

Angry silence reigned. Merlin lit a fire and doled out rations. He fixed Gwaine's arm without enormous difficulty, though the venomous looks of the knight suggested that it was more difficult for Gwaine.

Arthur himself ignored the looks his knights were sending him and focused on the green glow of the emeralds. Their shine was sweeter than any he'd seen. Merlin, eying them from where he tended the fire, thought the sapphires glittered like snake eyes and the emeralds looked like mold. Very, very, healthy mold.

Merlin also thought that a fox was unlikely to call a simple quarrel bad. But if it was caused by something else, something that turned men's loyalty sour and dreams into nightmares…then the Renard would call it bad indeed.

Lancelot had fallen asleep, and his dreams were that which it is a relief to forget. Gwen, her sweet face so sad as Arthur grabbed her and pulled her away. Arthur himself dripped blood and opened up a toothless maw, burned at the edges and with trickles of pus seeping down the sides. Gwen put her hands on his shoulders and tipped up her head, eyes glittering with green tears, and her own gentle lips touched that hideous mouth.

"Lancelot. Wake up." He blinked. There was a lightening around the edges of the dream, little gold pinpricks which broke the shadows wherein Gwen and Arthur embraced. "You're having a nightmare."

Then there were golden eyes and the light clove this monstrous Arthur apart, letting Gwen escape him and rush to Lancelot's arms. On the sidelines was a real Arthur, his eyes replaced by glowing green but making no move to Gwen, only standing and staring.

Lancelot's eyes snapped open. He still saw golden eyes-but they were only Merlin's.

"You can use magic to change dreams?" Lancelot quietly asked.

"I improvised it, but yeah. You were twitching and muttering." Lancelot remembered his dream and shivered. The light from the fire and from Merlin's eyes was mostly chasing away that wrong Arthur, but the feel of horror lingered. "Gwaine and Arthur have fallen asleep."

So they had. Arthur was curled on his side with the emeralds close his face, so each time he breathed the air brushed them. Gwaine was at the base of a tree, and slept like a log.

"I don't think there's a power on earth that can give Gwaine a nightmare." Lancelot muttered. Merlin shrugged, looking sheepish.

"I slipped a herb into his food. He won't wake until morning, and nothing can make it's way into his mind." Merlin blessed the lessons he'd learned from Gaius. Chief among them was that it was absolutely okay to drug someone without their knowledge, as long as it was for their own good.

"Didn't stand to help out me or Arthur?" Lancelot asked. His voice carried heavy traces of resentment.

"I didn't have much, and you I could help with magic. Arthur…" Merlin eyed him. "I think they have other plans for him."

"They?"

"The emeralds. I think they've been cursed." Lancelot frowned. "Haven't you noticed tempers have been high for no reason at all?"

"You've been acting normal."

"I think it's dragon blood."

"Pardon?" Merlin frowned.

"Did I forget to tell you? I'm the only living dragon lord." Lancelot gaped at him. "Ah. I didn't tell you then…"

"No wonder Farscar…"

"Faerscaer." Merlin enunciated. Lancelot waved a hand.

"I think it takes knowing dragon tongue to pronounce that. So that's why we aren't all dead." Lancelot thought. "It amazes me that you haven't yet killed Uther in a vengeance."

"Sometimes it's a shock to me as well." Merlin sighed. "But whatever this thing is with the emeralds, they don't bother dragon kin."

"Just us pitiful humans, eh?" Lancelot's tone wasn't quite teasing. Merlin looked at him, startled. "Well when you need the help of us common folk my Lord, wake me up."

"What? Lancelot!" The knight rolled over and hitched his cloak around his shoulders, ignoring Merlin. Merlin turned his head to glare at the emeralds. They winked at him in a way that seemed to Merlin sly.

* * *

><p>Merlin slowly loaded up the saddlebags. Lancelot was already mounted and ready to go, snapping the reins in a way that made Merlin pity the poor horse. Gwaine, still sulky and not much improved for a good night's sleep, was being awkward with the bags just to irritate Lancelot.<p>

Arthur caressed the necklace. He sat by the dead fire watching the sunlight send an aureoles shimmering around the gold plating, and the emeralds glow. Merlin swallowed.

"Arthur?" The prince barely glanced up. "Will you listen to me, prat?"

"What is it _Mer_lin?" Arthur's gaze swung up to Merlin.

"Can I talk to you? Alone?" Arthur's mouth opened, an answer along the lines of "we need to get back to Camelot quickly, no" on the tip of his tongue. Merlin's troubled look killed that response.

"Gwaine, watch my horse." That got him a furious look from Gwaine. Merlin didn't care. He led Arthur along the river away from the other two, until they were out of earshot. Then Merlin took his life in his hands.

"I think you should get rid of those jewels." Arthur stared. "Soon."

"I beg your pardon?" His fingers tightened their grip on the emeralds. They felt good in his hands. Merlin took that in, his fear growing.

"You're obsessing over them!" He gestured to Arthur's hand. "See, you just cut yourself on the damn things and do you notice that whenever blood touches them it seems to sink right in?"

Arthur blinked down at his hand. True, there was a jagged cut running along his thumb and the emeralds were clean, but that wasn't a crime. The blood had just slid off, the emeralds were so finely cut as to do that.

"You're being paranoid, _Mer_lin." Arthur responded, coldly. "I think perhaps you should go back to camp and spend some time riding alone with your delusions."

"See! See, the minute anyone says something bad about them you act like they've slandered your mother!"

"Merlin I am warning you, if you don't stop this behavior at once I'll tie you to my horse and let you run back to Camelot, and whip you if you trip!" In that moment, Arthur would have. Merlin stepped away from him, but did not stop.

"It's a _necklace_ Arthur! And furthermore, it's probably not going to do your mad father any good, I can see that much, even if you can bear to be parted from them for long enough to put them on his neck!" Merlin reached for it. "Throw it in the river and be done with it!"

"How dare you speak of my father that way!" Arthur loosened his sword. Merlin thought his eyes had turned to a different shade of green.

"What way? You know full well he's out of his mind, you've said as much to me a hundred times!" Merlin held out his hands in supplication. "Remember, when we were in _bed_?"

He hoped that playing the lovers card might remind Arthur that Merlin was someone he could trust, that Merlin was someone he shared a bed with and confided in and who had never stabbed him in the back despite ample opportunity.

"Do not mistake your place, boy." It did not. Arthur's eyes looked hazier, and his voice was strange. "I will take these to Camelot as a prize of victory, and to honor those at Khazad."

"Victory over _what?_ Arthur, please, if you ever cared for me, listen to me now! Those things are getting in your mind, fouling your thoughts, and if you bring them to Camelot you're going to rot the city from within!" Arthur blinked. For a second, Merlin had hope.

"You know none of what you speak. When we return, I'll throw you in the dungeons as a traitor." Merlin's heart fell. But Arthur was glaring at him, all attention on Merlin's face, and whatever he said, Arthur _did_ trust Merlin. He wouldn't expect his lover to lunge at him.

Merlin was counting on that. He suddenly dove forward and grabbed Arthur's wrist with one hand, prying the necklace from it. Time slowed, quite literally, by way of Merlin's magic, so he could contend with Arthur's reflexes. But Arthur's reflex had never been to strike at Merlin, and that was a great help.

Merlin had them. He whirled, feeling them twist in his hand and nearly come alive. Merlin had a vision of this necklace around a person's neck, choking them. His eyes flashed gold and the chain writhed, like a snake when a dagger hits it's middle. Merlin pulled back his arm and hurled the coronet into the river, where the current would carry it over the falls and it's own weight would sink it to the bottom under the foaming waves.

"What did you do, you _idiot?_" Arthur grabbed Merlin's collar and pulled him around, a wild light in his eyes. Merlin choked and Arthur shoved him down, unsheathing his sword in a fluid moment. "That was the way to heal my father!"

He swung down. Merlin gasped as cold steel hummed through the air. He was going to die here with river-wet grass staining his knees and one hand aching because those damned chains had whipped across it, at the hand of someone he protected and loved, because Arthur couldn't let go of a cursed necklace.

The blade stopped an inch from his neck.

Arthur stared down at him, blood pounding in his ears. Merlin stared up at him, terror written over his features.

What was he _doing?_

The prince lowered his sword and turned, fear flying though him. He'd almost killed Merlin. Almost killed idiot, precious _Merlin_ over a necklace and no matter what the worth of the thing was it was never worth Merlin, not if it had been a hundred gorgeous emeralds in 300 yards of gold chain.

The emeralds went over the falls, and water cut off an outraged cry. Arthur blinked. Back at their camp Lancelot blinked and then jumped as he realized what he'd done to the horse, and Gwaine started as he remembered that it was hardly a bad thing for Lancelot to wish to get back to Camelot, and he had no reason to delay him.

What were the worth of the emeralds, anyways? Arthur wondered. It was like a fog clearing. He had no reason to be so cruel to Merlin, not when Merlin had only been concerned for his wellbeing and a valid concern at that.

He turned back to Merlin, who had been the only one to hear that angry yell.

"W-we ride for Camelot now." His gaze was drawn to the little nip in Merlin's jacket just above the shoulder, that which his sword had sliced when he was intent on separating Merlin's head from his body and aiming for just above the collarbone.

Merlin inhaled a short, angry, breath. Was that _it_? He nearly got himself killed and ignored and insulted and all Arthur thought to do was ride for Camelot. With frustration running through him that had nothing to do with cursed emeralds, Merlin stomped back to camp.

* * *

><p>They entered Camelot as quietly as they left it, a bleak party. Gwen held her tongue as Lancelot embraced her, holding her rather tighter than need be for a few day's journey. She led him back to her rooms for food and comfort.<p>

Gwaine headed for the tavern and got himself drunk. He wasn't a loose mouthed drunk or sober, and he very much wanted the dull fuzz of alcohol. Sir Leon didn't stop him from drunkenness as was his usual duty with young knights, merely carried Gwaine to his house and got him in bed safely. Leon after all, had experience in demons.

Arthur went for his rooms. Once there he fumbled through his drawers for the bracelet. The diamond's shine seemed a tad more repugnant now, and chucking them down the reservoir drain felt proper. His mind couldn't stay at peace. Merlin had been in his rooms-the fire was lit in the grate, the sheets were clean and the pillows fluffed, but he hadn't returned to Arthur's chambers in the evening as he normally would.

After around an hour or so of staring at the canopy reflecting on the taxes and being distracted by the thought of what really should have been going on in his bed around then, Arthur flung his blankets off and went to look for Merlin.

A fruitless wander round the castle later, Arthur found him. Merlin was scrubbing out Gaius's leech tank, in one of the unused corridors which abounded in Camelot. His movements were jerky and his back tense.

"Are you coming to bed?" Arthur asked. If Merlin was surprised by his presence, he didn't show it. But his scrubbing became more furious.

"Leech tank needs cleaning. Gaius can't do it, his spine's too creaky." Arthur shifted his weight from foot to foot. Merlin sighed. "Are you going to stand there all night?"

"Probably." Arthur might as well be honest. "Or until you finish."

"Won't be soon. You should just go to sleep." Merlin's tone was cold.

"Are you going to be there soon?" Arthur tried not to sound too hopeful.

"No." Merlin said flatly. "I'm going to kneel here and contemplate my delusions for quite awhile longer. Then I'm going to go back to my bed and thank all the spirits of the forest, sun and moon for your highness's mercy in not throwing me into the dungeons when we got here, as you had promised to."

"I was being controlled by emeralds!" Arthur winced. The excuse sounded rather shabby. "And I'm not now, so will you shut up and stop sulking?"

That was not what he had intended to say.

Merlin let out an audible growl. "I'm sulking now, am I? Then I'd prefer to sulk in privacy."

"What's wrong with you? We're back in Camelot, we're safe, and they're gone!" Arthur stepped closer to Merlin. He really didn't wish to go to bed, not when he didn't have Merlin with him to reassure him that he _had_ stopped the sword in time.

"What wonderfully stated obvious, you should become a poet." Merlin responded icily. Arthur wracked his brains. What in the world was Merlin upset about?

"D'you want some sort of acknowledgement, for being the only one who figured it out?" That made Merlin get up and whirl around, glaring.

"I would like at least an _apology_ for nearly having my head chopped off, and actually a thank you for getting rid of those things would be appreciated, yeah! But I think that my _place_ must not merit either, and since that place appears to be rather worthless I'm fine with giving it up!" Merlin turned back around and flung the rag into the water bucket, then resumed cleaning with a vengeance.

Arthur wanted to hit himself. He'd been caught up in the fact that he almost beheaded Merlin and horrified by the mere thought. His lover however, whose head had nearly been cut off, would certainly be shaken. And possibly more than a little hurt by the rubbish that came from his mouth in that last argument. Normally Merlin never asked for any thank you at all, but this had perhaps been more taxing for the poor man than most things.

He sighed and knelt down next to Merlin. Merlin didn't look at him, focused instead on viciously swiping algae off the glass.

"Sorry. First of all, for almost killing you. Believe me, it scared me as well. Scared me far too much for me to think about what you must've been feeling. And I'm sorry for not thanking you. Getting those emeralds away from me was courageous, heroic, and I'm amazed it didn't kill you." Merlin unconsciously flexed his hand. The red marks where the necklace had bit into it were faded, but still vivid on his pale skin. Arthur's tone sharpened. "What's that?"

"Huh? Oh nothing." Arthur grabbed his hand-with startling gentleness-and inspected them. "It doesn't hurt." Much, Merlin added mentally.

"You need to _tell_ me when you get hurt." Arthur said. He traced the line. "I wish I'd hurled that thing away as soon as I felt strange."

"Well, you aren't very bright. Probably been hit in the head too many times." Merlin suggested. Arthur looked up from his hand incredulously. "It was impossible to resist, sorry."

"I'd rather have you teasing than upset." Arthur wrapped an arm around Merlin's waist. Merlin didn't shrug it off.

"You're being distinctly unprattly, perhaps something was dislodged when the dragon hit you." Merlin commented. Arthur sighed and moved closer, wrapping both arms around Merlin so the wizard was pulled against Arthur's chest. Merlin didn't object.

"Shut up, _Mer_lin. I'm only looking after your health." Merlin sighed.

"I thought it wasn't my place to be cared about by the prince." Arthur shook his head and put his chin against Merlin's shoulder, so he could feel dark hair tickling his nose.

"It doesn't mater. I do care, Merlin. I…very much care."

* * *

><p>Later, when Merlin was lying drowsy in Arthur's arms and morning light was just beginning to creep into the royal chambers, Arthur spoke.<p>

"Why do you think the merchant told me about those jewels?" Merlin was silent.

"I think they would've cleared your father's mind…but been selective about which parts. Maybe only cleared the way for cruelty and malice and kept all the good locked off in some other part." Merlin shrugged. Arthur enjoyed the feeling on Merlin's skin moving. "I suppose he didn't know much about them."

"I suppose." Arthur sat up. "One thing, before I forget." Merlin rolled over and watched as Arthur poked in his wardrobe, looking for something.

"I hope you aren't trying to dress yourself Arthur. We know how that turns out." Arthur snorted and finally found what he was looking for. A velvet cloak, dark blue like the light on the horizon just before the sun sets. It was cut in a fashion vaguely resembling the druids, though that thought never occurred to Arthur. Pinned to one side was a dragon brooch of twisting gold.

"I bought it for you before the merchant left." Arthur sounded slightly embarrassed. "Since you don't own a decent jacket, and I didn't want you catching a chill as soon as cold weather hits."

"Thank you." Merlin sat up and stared at in in awe. The worth was probably more than all his clothing thrown together, not even throwing in the brooch. The brooch with the Pendragon motif on it. "It's…"

"Yes, well, I didn't want you dead." Arthur tossed it over a chair and wiggled back into bed, wrapping his arms around Merlin again. Merlin smiled. The morning sun was faint enough that they wouldn't be needed for hours, Arthur was holding him without restraint, and the kingdom was, for the most part, safe and secure.

If dark things stirred in far corners and people far away plotted, it could not touch any in Camelot then.

**A/N: Finished! I blame this all on Nova Scotia rain, because how awesome is writing when you can hear rain pattering on the roof? It's always my favorite way to work. I'm thinking about writing a sequel too, since next week I'm going to Maine. **


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